25 DAYS YOUR SON
by the Boondock-Jedi-Zombie
Summary: When the Red Hood suffers from amnesia, Batman can finally bring him home. He regains his son; Dick, Tim, and Damian regain their brother; and all in time for Christmas. But how far is Bruce willing to go to preserve this newfound peace, especially from the Joker? Is he willing to steal away Jason's memories forever to keep the family together? [not slash]
1. Chapter 1

**Title: 25 days my Son**

**Rating: T for violence and language**

**Pairings(if any): implied Dick/Babs **

**A/N: It is Christmas Day as I post this new story and I just got the New 52 Nightwing series, the first 4 volumes! My favorite is by far the Death of the Family Arc, it is simply amazing, and there will be references to it in the story. I'm so happy! Also, for those of you following "These Scars", the story has not been abandoned but I need some inspiration, so please be patient :)**

**A/N: character designs are basically all the New 52 stuff. **

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><p>"HAHAHAHAHA, AHAHAHAHAHA…!"<p>

The chilling laughter echoes throughout the abandoned auto-body shop, though the owner of the haunting voice is nowhere to be seen. Scattered rays of moonlight cascade through the shop's skylights, reflecting off the gleaming chrome of several expensive vehicles, most of them brightly colored convertibles, with a few sleek bikes on display as well. The illumination also highlights the graffiti covered walls, spray painted in the forms of blood mouths and the word _HA _in all styles and forms. Other than the paint job, however, nothing else seems to have been disturbed; and that is why Nightwing stands in the front doorway, reluctant to go in any further. The laughter has died away, the speakers shrieking as they die away; it is then that the young vigilante dares to tap his small earpiece and begin his report. "I'm in," he says shortly. "No sign of the Joker though; but he's here. I know it."

He can hear Oracle, aka Barbara Gordon, type several different codes into her computer before he hears her confirmation. _"Alright, Nightwing. Robin and Red Robin are almost at your position; stay put until they get there."_

He nods, even though he knows that the woman will not be able to see him, and leans casually against the doorframe, trying to not to give into his increasing adrenaline as he keeps his voice low. "Sooo… how's Batman?"

Back at the Batcave, Oracle glances over her shoulder towards where a haggard Bruce Wayne is tapping furiously at the computer, a Bat-glare pasted on his face despite the fact that he is not in costume. "He's the same as when you talked to him last," she sighs quietly into her headset's microphone. "He wants to be out there; he hates the fact that you guys are handling Joker by yourselves."

_"__He's got over four fractured ribs and a minor concussion. He __**can't **__be out here," _Nightwing replies, sounding just as edgy.

"**_I _**know that, Dick," she says, rubbing a tired hand over her forehead. "But **_he _**doesn't; well, at least I have Alfred here to help me this time. It'd be pretty embarrassing for the Batman's image if he was taken down by a former Batgirl in a wheelchair, just because he was trying to sneak out of his own Cave."

Dick Grayson chuckles upon that statement, feeling some of the tension loosen its way from his muscles. However, before he could enjoy the tiny period of relief, the Joker's laughter flows towards him again, this time louder and more clear. "Sorry, Oracle, but I'm gonna have to cut this debriefing short," he states, one hand moving to the escrima stick strapped to his thigh. "The clown's up to something – I can hear him. I'm going in for a closer look."

_"__Just wait a minute, Hunk Wonder. Robin is literally only a minute away."_

He's already moving deeper inside the shop, the laughter still having yet to cease, the high-pitched sounds reverberating off the walls as they blare from the intercom speakers. He takes a moment to focus himself, listen closely; and comes to the conclusion that his target is hidden somewhere in the back storage room. He moves forward.

_"__Dick? Dick, are you listening to me? Just wait for Robin…"_

Something that sounds horrifically like a chainsaw is revved up in the storage room, and his pace quickens. "Oracle," he whispers, words rushed. "Oracle, he's definitely here. He's doing something, I need to make sure no one is…"

_"__Don't be stupid. Stay put!"_

"Let me just see…"

_"__Dick!"_

He's already at the doorway leading into the storage room; and cautiously, he pushes away the thick strips of plastic that act as a blocker, allowing him to peer into the extremely large room filled with partially built cars, crates and crates and mechanical parts, and the carnage that is covers the exact center of the room. The black-haired hero stumbles back a step, hand clamping down over his mouth as he smothers a gasp. "Oracle," he manages to choke out, regaining his composure as a rush of righteous adrenaline surges through his veins. "I'm going in!" _Can't wait, or it'll be too late_.

_"__Dick!" _barks out Oracle. _"Don't, just wait…!"_

But he's already switched off his comm. and grasped both his escrima sticks, rushing into the storage area.

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><p>Her connection with Dick is severed, and Barbara resists the urge to pull at her hair. Instead, she stares at the two little red and green dots that represent Red Robin and Robin, whose green beacon is now just across the street from Nightwing's location. <em>Hurry,<em> she urges the little marker. _Hurry before your dork of an older brother does something stupid_.

At that moment, the strained voice of her mentor drifts over to her. "Is everything alright, Oracle?" His voice is a strange mixture of Bruce Wayne and the Batman; and as she turns to face him, she can't help but notice his gaunt appearance.

For his sake, she plasters on a smile, hoping that Bruce's exhaustion will ensure that he does not see through her false optimism. "Everything seems to be according to plan," she says, trying to keep her voice light. "Try not to worry – they're all fine."

His eyes narrow – because of course he doesn't believe her, he's the goddamn Batman – but he does eventually go back to his computer files. Surprising. She'd at least expected him to walk over and check for himself the three little icons on the bottom of her screen that tell him his sons' vital signs; and this tells her just how tired the man truly is. Pursing her lips into a thin line, she goes back to tapping her fingernails against her desk, hoping beyond hope that Dick had used common sense and had waited for one or both of his brothers to back him up before going to confront the Joker.

_Please, please, let them stop him this time_, she begs no one or anything in particular. _Please_.

* * *

><p>Immediately, there's a barrage of bullets chipping the walls and boxes he's near; a series of perfected acrobatics easily keeps him out of harm's way as he flies towards his opponents. The first thug, face covered by a plastic clown mask, goes down easily, and while the other two prove a bit more of a challenge, they are taken care of quickly as soon as they are disarmed. Two more of the Joker's hired guns rush at him from behind, and he flings two wingdings in their general direction, hitting both in the kneecaps; a single blow delivered to each of the men's foreheads render them all securely unconscious. He's lacking in his usual banter tonight; the coagulating pools of blood on the floor, along with the two maimed cops on the floor, have dampened his mood. In between head smashing and gut kicking, he glances at the pair of victims, sighing in relief when he sees they are both breathing. His own identity as a member of the Bludhaven PD makes this crime <strong><em>that <em>**much more personal – he may not live in Gotham anymore, but he knows both these officers. They're clean, unlike most of Gotham's dirty little patrolmen; and for that, he'll ensure the Joker will pay tonight. Killing is still not an option, but a few extra broken bones won't make much of a difference, will they?

He becomes too wrapped up in focusing on the cops – a juvenile mistake he should not have made – and suddenly, white hot agony splits his skull in two as a wrench bears down on the nape of his neck. Large black blobs mar his vision, and he can just barely comprehend that he's lying flat down on the ground. There's ringing in his ears, and his neck just hurts so badly that he fears it may be broken; and all the while the singsong of laughter echoes above him.

"Well, well, well, look what birdie I've caught today!" exclaims the Joker's voice. The clown is standing above him, he can tell; but he still can't see clear, and the pain has traveled up to his neck, throbbing. There's a trickle of hot blood seeping down his costume too. _Great, Grayson. Nice going…_

"Where's the Bat, birdie?" the psychopath's voice taunts, mingling in with the sound of a foot tapping against the ground near his head. "Did he abandon you _again_? My, my, and here I thought he'd learned to keep his pets on a shorter leash. Don't you remember the last time?"

Yes, he does; and the horrific memories of his family all tied up, bloody cloths around their faces and soaked to the bone in gasoline*, is enough motivation for him to force open his eyes and get to his knees, despite how his upper neck protests. Groaning despite his best efforts not to, he raises his vision to find himself looking up at the appallingly familiar face of the Joker, crazed eyes gleaming in the dull lamp light, yellowed jaw in full view with the maniac's newest 'make over'. The knowledge that the man had sliced his **_own face off _**and then stapled it back on still nauseated him; the added knowledge that he'd come **_this _**close to having the same thing done to himself and the rest of his family made the feeling even worse.

Two wild eyes, one green/gray, the other almost completely white, stared down at him above that sadistic grin. "Let's see if we can get your daddy Bat to come out, little birdie," he exclaimed, once again raising the heavy mechanic's wrench. "Let's play!"

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><p><strong>* reference to the New 52 Nightwing's <strong>**_Death of the Family_**** story arc, where Joker kidnaps Batman and his family (Alfred, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Robin & Batgirl).**

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><p>Next chapter we'll have Red HoodJason! :D


	2. Chapter 2

"Let's play!" Joker screams, raising a large, metal wrench high in the air over a dazed looking Nightwing.

_No!_ The sight of his older brother lying at the Joker's feet sends static waves of terror through all of Red Robin's nerves as he kicks in the back door of the auto shop; as soon as he's back on his feet, he sends a birdarangs whistling towards the sadistic clown, the sharp blade embedding itself in the white, fingerless gloves clutching the wrench. There's a screech that's ripped from bloody red lips, and Nightwing manages to scramble several feet away on his elbows and knees while Joker clutches his injured hand, dark liquid dripping onto the concrete floor.

Insanity manages to jerk him out of the pain far faster than normal, and those wild eyes swing dazed around the shop for a moment before landing on Red Robin and Robin, who are now trying to get Nightwing to his feet. He looks back at his hand, then the vigilantes, then his hand again. Something deadly sparks on his horrid face. "That's not funny," he growls, and Red Robin feels himself grow goose bumps.

When the Joker makes a mad dash for the exit, none of them are surprised. "Robin, stay here with Nightwing and those cops!" the masked Tim Drake calls out, already sprinting forward in pursuit. He chooses to ignore Robin's indignant protests, along with the worry for Dick that's making his gut churn. _He's fine_, he reminds himself. _Saw some blood, but he was conscious and not screaming in pain. Damian can take care of him for now. C'mon, Drake, focus! Focus on catching _him_._ Joker, despite being a demented maniac that had sliced off his own face and stapled it back on, is fast when he wants to be. He can just get a few glimpses of a purple jacket and pale white skin as the psycho begins to disappear in the darkness of the Gotham slums; the weather isn't helping at all as dark clouds release large clumps of frigid white fluff down on the world below. When chasing on foot proves not to be effective, Red Robin hastily scampers up a fire escape and then leaps off the rooftop, opening his arms wide and allowing his new glider feature to come into play. The dozens of light plastic strands attached to his suit, resembling feathers, quickly catch the wind, and he glides over alleyways and the empty streets, slowly gaining on his prey. _Damn it, Joker_. He grit his teeth as the sadistic suddenly changed course and made a sharp right; in his attempt to follow, Tim felt his glider nearly fold in on him. _Why is he so fast? Ugh, need to retrofit these wings for winter flight – the cold and the snow certainly aren't doing me any good. _

_"__Red Robin?" _Oracle's voice interrupts his mental rambling.

He risks lowering one of his artificial wings to tap his earpiece. "Go, Oracle."

_"__Are you aware that you're heading directly for the highway?"_

He looks around, squinting through the quickly thickening snow. "Uh… huh. Yeah, I guess I am. I should probably try to catch this slime ball before he gets there, should I?" He makes a deep swoop down, and curses when the Joker once again takes a sudden turn, this time to the left. He's swerving, but he's definitely heading for the highway. "Hey, Oracle, have you heard from Nightwing or Robin yet?"

_"__Yes, they're both fine; but Tim, if he gets across that highway, you'll have to postpone the chase."_

Now that's confusing. "What are you talking about? We need to catch him this time, I'm gaining ground, I can do it…"

_"__The highway, Tim."_

"So?"

There's a pause. _"Red Hood's territory? Across the highway? Ring a bell?"_

Gears churn in the teen's head, and suddenly he lowers his arms and lands on a store's rooftop, watching as the slick fugitive let out cackling laughter as he dashed across the now empty highway lanes, disappearing into the distant shadows. "Shiiiiiiiii_iiiiii_t," he drawls, resisting the urge to hit something. He stamps his boot against the ground instead, and then leaps downwards so he is once again on solid ground. _Unbelievable. So close! Damn it, damn it, damn it! Stupid Hood, with your petty boundary rules. Stupid Batman, for actually agreeing to those rules. Stupid me, for being so weak that I know I'll get my face wiped across Gotham's pavement if I break those rules._

He can hear sympathy and exasperation in Oracle's voice as she spoke. _"I'll talk to the boss here and see what we should do next. Don't worry, Tim, we'll get him next time."_

He finds his mind wandering away from the present reality and thinking back to a few months ago, him first being forced to fight Red Hood nearly to the death by the Joker and then being captured with the rest of his brothers in order to break the Batman. The memory haunts him, even now, and at that moment he makes a decision. _Since fighting Hood last we've gotten… I dunno… a better understanding of each other. He's still exaggeratingly fierce over his territory; but if he hears that it's in order to catch Joker maybe he'll relent a bit. He'll probably relent a bit. I just bet he'll relent. Maybe he could even help, if I can stop him from shooting the clown in the head before I get him back to Arkham. Yeah, yeah, okay. I can do this, alright then…_

He breaks out into a swift run once more, quickly clearing the highway; then, before he knows it, he's past it and slipping down an old alleyway filled with backed up sewage and garbage and filthy yellow snow drifts. He leaps over the larger obstacles, and then finds himself in a rather large, open area, with a broken fountain in the middle surrounded by tattoo parlors, bars, and dingy night clubs that pulse with loud, off beat music. Oracle is yelling in his ear, telling him to turn back around and not to be stupid; he raises one hand and shuts the comm. off, no doubt going to get a heck of a scolding later by the former Batgirl. Yet, strangely enough, he can't bring himself to truly care. He's too busy studying his surroundings, attempting to discern where the Joker had disappeared. _C'mon, you freak, show yourself_.

Directly up ahead, a club called the Warp suddenly has its doors flung open, and scantily clad drunks pour outside, screaming. One man, his pants hanging down to his knees, trips and falls in a drift of snow – he's still clutching his beer and he's as white as the frozen water beneath him, breathing coming out in heavy gasps. He looks as if he's about to have a coronary.

_Well… that's as good a place to start looking as any._

Oracle sits at her post, speechless for quite a moment. She's never been too fond of the Jason Todd, ever since he'd become the Red Hood. He'd been an amusing child as Robin; but the violent, trigger happy vigilante he ran around as now always made her uncomfortable. Dick said he trusted his brother with his life; but she'd seen the marks on all three of the Batman's current partners. Hood never went easy on any of them if they crossed the line. The line that Tim had just broken tonight. She spins her chair around to glare at the man standing behind her, whose face is as unreadable as always. "Have you trained _all _of your sons to be so impulsive?" she demands, frowning. "Because Red Robin just crossed the highway and _then _cut me out."

"I've been tracking the Red Hood's movements for the past several weeks," Bruce replied, ruffled yet now showing it. Barbara Gordon was perhaps the only person besides Alfred and his surrogate offspring that could talk up to him as such and leave unharmed. "He's busy with a drug bust tonight on the other side of his territory – he shouldn't be anywhere near Tim tonight."

"And if Jason _does _show up?" she challenges, eyes holding his gaze steadily; a feat she may not have achieved had he been wearing the cowl. "Do you think he'll be all pleasant with having Tim _and _the _Joker_ trespassing? Breaking the rules you _both _set up and agreed to?"

He doesn't answer, but the way his muscles tense and his lips purse together tell her all she needs to know.

The Red Hood has never been a very popular reputation; and Jason Todd has never been very trendy _using _that reputation. He doesn't mind. It just makes keeping a low profile easier, allowing him to slip into the rich New Gotham streets and then slink back into the slums with the skills of a professional prevaricator. It gets him into the dirtiest, seediest places available in the city, where the lowest of the low gather around to drink and fuck and fight and make complete fools of themselves.

It also gets him free beer, because apparently, the owner of the joint he's currently in is in need of protection tonight; and Red Hood can provide that protection for a never ending tab of burning alcohol. It's why he's now lounged in a corner window booth, two empty bottles on the filthy table before him and another in his hands. His red helmet sits on his lap as he swings the cool beverage up to his lips once more; just as he swallows, he notices the Warp across the street get suddenly evacuated, all its pathetic customers flooding out the gates as if the place is on fire. He doubts there's any real trouble. He knows the owner of the club is a drunken asshole who completely loses his mind after a few drinks too many; no doubt Buzz ran all those people out himself. He takes another sip of his beer, than glances down at the bulge from underneath his leather jacket and white t-shirt. He knows the lump is formed by the bandages his ribs were completely wrapped in – the drug bust from earlier had gone well except for those few broken bones. It makes breathing a bitch, but the drinks are already numbing that negative effect; and besides, he had reason to celebrate. No more Donnie Franco dealing amphetamines to high school saps. No more Donnie Franco period. It felt good to have that oaf off his streets, knowing those teenagers would be rid of Franco's pep pills, and Jason managed a sloppy smirk to himself. _Good work tonight, Jason_, he complimented. _Good work…_

His peripheral vision picked up a flash of red and black against the gray/white backdrop, and he choked on his next gulp of beer. To see the Red Robin dashing across the broken little plaza and leap through the Warp's front door is certainly not expected, and Jason lets his drink fall from his hands, replacing it with his helmet as he slams the protective gear over his head. "…the fuck...?" He passes by the bar's owner, whose yelling at him to come back, that he still needs protecting. Red Hood shouts back at him, something about keeping his dick in his pants and that he'll be back in no time, before charging out into the frigid winter air.

By the time he reaches the Warp, its fairly obvious what has caused the people to panic and explains Red Robin's presence. The Joker stands is standing on the small stage, the one used to show off exotic dancers, and in his hands he clutches a hand pistol he must've pulled from one of the guards. R. Robin is perched on one of the overturned tables, his boa staff held in front of him as he tries to gauge if/when/where his opponent will shoot. Red Hood stands in the doorway, blood boiling at the sight of the clown freak, his own impressive firepower slipping out of their holsters and into his palms.

Joker is the first one to spot him, and playfully levels his weapon at the bright hood. "Hey there, Hoodie!" he calls out, making Red Robin spin around in surprise. "Would you look at that! It's all three of us, back together again, just like old times!" He laughs – of course he's gotta laugh – and then yanks the safety off the pistol. His voice drops three octave lower, and he tilts his head in a mockingly seductive matter. "Let's get this party started, shall we?"

He's diving for cover even before the first bullet is shot at him. He crashes to the ground and looks up to see Red Robin performing an elegant dance, leaping from one table to the next, slowly getting closer and closer to the enemy. He's gonna take him down, truss him up, and drag that clown's ass all the way back to Arkham; and once again, Jason will lose his chance to rid the world of this bastard's cruelty for good. _Oho no you don't… not this time, baby bird_. He's back on his feet in a second, and striding forward towards the stage, fingers slamming down on his triggers in an attempt to get this job done before 'baby bird' gets close enough to interfere.

One bullet ricochets, and Tim barely has time to dodge it before it rips past his shoulder. "Watch it, Hood!" he calls out angrily. "You don't have to go 'round shooting like some drunk cowboy!" The younger boy pauses a second, considers tazering Jason and getting him out of the way, and then decides against it. It'll just make things more difficult in the long run.

"Ya can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen, baby bird!" he calls back, still shooting, gritting his teeth. " 'the hell you doing here anyway?! On _my _land!"

Once again, the cowboy metaphor comes to mind, but Red Robin shoves it aside. "Would you rather me let this sicko get away, trashing up your business?!" he exclaims, ducking and gliding with a grace that has always left Jason a bit jealous. Heck, a lot jealous.

_Damn replacement and Dick and demon spawn, always showing off. Damn Bat for teaching them all this crap and not _me. He's almost at the stage, but so is the other boy. And the Joker… he just keeps skipping around, not fazed by the fact that almost all of Hood's projectiles are only centimeters away from their mark. _Hold still, ya ass!_ "If he wanders into my territory, than you leave him to me!" he states, growling. He's taken off guard when R. Robin slams into him from the side, and nearly dislocates the sixteen-year-old's jaw with his uppercut slam. "Back off!"

"Can't let you kill him," Tim grunts, kicking Hood in gut before scrambling to his feet.

"My property, my rules!" His regains his grip on his guns and once again begins shooting. Only the clown isn't on the stage anymore – he's moved over near the drink bar. He and Tim lock eyes for just a second before both break out in a mad race to reach their prey first.

Joker looks and them, and waggles his eyebrows; a motion Jason wouldn't have thought he could still pull off with his face like that. "Aw, you two fighting over little ol' me?" he coos. "I take back what I said before – this is _much _better than a date with the Bat!"

_Oh, so he's doing all this just to get to Bruce. Of course he is. _He notices that somehow, Tim has pulled ahead of him, dodging objects while he just smashes through them. He considers shooting the kid for a moment – nothing lethal, just maybe in one of the legs – but then relents a bit. He doesn't feel like killing the Batman's partners anymore, at least not Tim or Dick. He's still considering his thoughts on the demonic nightmare that's called Damian Wayne.

His ribs scream at him in protest as he breaks right through a heavy wooden table, and he stifles a cry. He releases a heavy torrent of profanities instead, and when both he and Red Robin are near enough, they both take crazed, flying leaps through the air, ready to tackle Joker to the ground and fight over him like cats over a mouse.

But Joker gets to throw his homemade Molotov cocktail first, and throws the small explosive happily at them. "Catch, boys!"

It crashes against Jason's hood – because _of course_ it would hit him and spare the replacement. But _both _of them go flying back from the impact, flames quickly spread all around them as Joker unleashes several more of his toys. There's enough alcohol in the place to make it light up like dead grass. _How did I not see him making those?_ he thinks with a groan as he sits up, gasping at the agony that is his chest, just barely aware of how Red Robin is groggily trying to regain his balance on his knees. _Goddamn it!_

Smoke… its everywhere now. Little sensors in his helmet begin to flash warnings and beep periodically. _Thank you, little helmet sensors. Like I didn't already know I'm knee deep in shit right now_. He tries to sit up more, until his chest shrieks at him not to move another muscle or it'll rip itself from its body. _Waist deep. _He blinks a few times, trying to regain his vision behind the lenses of his red mask.

Tim is stumbling around, coughing into the sleeve of his Red Robin uniform as he begins babbling to someone he can't see. Ghosts? No, that's stupid. Jason frowns as he tries to get his brain to think straight. Oracle. He's probably talking to Oracle. He knows that means others will be showing up soon, but can't bring himself to care much. Probably because his mind has become as smoked up as the room, and his chest feels afire – maybe it actually is – and he's trapped in this hell with princess Timothy Drake. Well, at least it's not the demon spawn. Red Robin… Jason decides that for the moment, he can tolerate Red Robin.

"…and we're… Oracle? Oracle?! Shit!" Tim is using his fingers to go all woodpecker on his ear – Jason hisses as he gets to his feet and observes just how stupid the kid looks. He considers a snappy insult, but then a beam nearby crashes to the ground, and he decides full blown mocking can wait until they're both out of the Warp-turned-oven. "Something wrong, baby bird?" he calls over teasingly, managing a pain laced smirk.

Red Robin scowls at him from behind his black mask, but doesn't seem _too _irked. "I can't get back in contact with Oracle," he says grimly. "And I didn't tell her about _you _being here either."

"Doesn't matter – I'll be outta here in just a few seconds." He stumbles over towards where the front door had been; it's now covered by three flaming chunks of roof and other debris. He tries to move a piece; but his body won't let him, and he's forced to lean back against a piece of wall that is not yet aflame. "Ugh…" He shuts his eyes, shakes his head in an attempt to clear it. "…gimme a minute… to, uh… to think…"

"Don't hurt yourself," Tim tells him dryly. "We can't waste time, we've gotta get out of here now…"

The center beam comes crashing down, and Red Robin is the first to hear the ominous creaks and groans of the building.

"Hood, c'mon we need to… JASON, MOVE!"

The ceiling comes crashing down on them a split second later.


End file.
